


Frigid

by Random_ag



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Sex Repulsed Joey Drew, i might have a thing for joey being comforted by his husband, if there are any aphobes out there: this is what youre causing, malcolm uses xe/xem/xyr pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:28:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24719023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_ag/pseuds/Random_ag
Summary: adjective: used to indicate someone with low libido, abnormally averse to sexual intercourse, or unwilling to be sexually responsive, usually towards their partner.
Relationships: Joey Drew/Malcolm McNamara
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Frigid

Holding onto his hips with nails digging deep into his flesh.

“You’re hurting me.”

Teeth ripping at his skin, whining, begging, needing.

“You’re hurting me like this.”

Breath too close and warm and humid and strong.

“You’re hurting us like this.”

Holding tight, too tight, hard to breathe.

“It can’t work. We can’t work like this.”

Green eyes.

“Why are you like this? Why are you just like her? Why do you hurt me, why do you hurt us just like her? Let me. Let me or this won’t work.”

Too close, too wet, clipping through skin, too warm and too tight and too much.

“Let me or I won’t keep this up.”

Joey opened his eyes and noticed a veil of sweat on his face.

His arm hit something beside him, under the covers; Malcolm kept on sleeping by his side without a single movement.

He looked at xem, twirling the ring around his left finger with dread.

It couldn’t last.

It couldn’t last if he didn’t fix this.

How come he’d never thought of it before? Of the problems it could have inevitably brought? He’d never thought it was something to fix. He’d never considered it, even, how harmful it could have been to a relationship. Maybe because he’d never been in a relationship before. He’d never even tried to be in one, never had enough guts to attempt to. He’d liked and fancied and sighed and fantasized and made nothing of anything at all, out of forgetfulness or worry or anxious fright or certain refusal. Was it because of it? Because he couldn’t bring himself to do anything with anybody? Not with someone who might have not loved him after a few weeks for sure, so why should he have finally managed to grow a spine about it now that he had a spouse? Because as far as he could tell it wasn’t happening.

It couldn’t be good. It couldn’t have been good for a marriage.

“No storyboarding at the table.”

“What?”

“No storyboarding at the table.” Malcolm smiled. The wine in xyr glass had barely decreased.

“I wasn’t storyboarding.” Joey tried his best to sound as if he was lying.

“So the food’s just been cold from the beginning and not because you zoned out for ten minutes?”

“… Could be.”

The lawyer chuckled. Joey took the opportunity to down half of his glass, and the the corners of his vision began to blur so hard he had to shut his eyes for a couple seconds.

“Everything alright?”

“Yes. Yes, I’m good, just- Might have drank too quickly.”

“Don’t worry. Nobody’s running after us.”

The hand gently stroking the animator’s own made his heart melt and his brain pound: he wanted nothing but to get it over with as soon as possible.

Then it would have been alright, no?

And he wouldn’t have even remembered it. A win for both of them.

He toasted to it in his mind and emptied the glass.

His head pulsed as if all of his arteries had been transfered into his skull.

Joey saw black hair pressed on his nose when he opened his eyes, and felt arms wrapped around his chest. After a moment of numbness, his pained brain managed to process the sensations and he panickedly grabbed his legs.

Never had he ever been so relieved to feel the fabric of a pair pants on himself.

His eyes squeezed shut with a hiss - god, the headache. So much headache. Getting black out drunk when he was a lightweight had not been his best plan, he had to admit that. Hadn’t really thought it through.

He slithered out of the gentle embrace to grab his crutches.

At least it was still dark. Any light stronger than a couple moonrays or a far off street lamp would have killed him while he was staggering to the kitchen.

The water filling his glass sounded horribly loud; no matter how carefully he spun the teaspoon inside of it to dissolve the medicinal powder faster, it too felt like a plane had just surpassed the apartment too close for comfort at the same moment a flock of wild ambulances had shot wailing through the streets. He gulped it all down hoping the foul taste in his mouth would manage to cancel all the noise.

He grimaced like a dog does after eagerly biting into a slice of lemon.

It didn’t help lowering the noise of the glass clinking inside the sink.

Joey sucked a breath in through gritted teeth as he screwed his eyes shut. Stupid goddamned idea. What was going to happen after, anyways? What was going to happen after he woke up? What was he going to feel like? Screw the hangover, how would he have even managed to face himself? To face Malcolm? How would he have dealt with the fact that there was no other way for this to happen, for him to just let himself go, to let Malcolm have this? How would he have dealt with a feeling that he _knew_ would have made him nauseous and hurt even if he didn’t remember what had caused it?

He tried to stumble back in the livingroom and nearly had a heart attack: a dark figure stood in front of his bedroom.

“Joey?” Malcolm’s voice was still slurred and his eyes half lidden, sleepy.

It took him a little to answer weakly: “Yes.”

His husband walked towards him, hands stretched out to hold him, kind, gentle, soft: “What are you doing up so late?”

Joey shivered. The thought of those hands on him was horrible at the moment.

“Had… Had a headache.”

“From the wine?”

Joey nodded. He jolted away when Malcolm’s fingers brushed his arm. He hoped xe wouldn’t notice.

“You don’t drink so fast and so much usually.”

Xe’d noticed that instead.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.” he said, or he would have. He would have liked to. His voice failed him halfway through and the vocal never made it out. He felt himself wobble like a water droplet.

“Do want to sit down?”

Joey nodded. He stumbled into the armchair and sat, crutches at his sides, Malcolm on the couch beside him.

“Why did you want to get drunk?” xe asked.

He inhaled, and he gulped, and he didn’t manage to make a sound.

“Did something happen, at work maybe, or…?”

He got noise out of himself. Noise very vaguely reminiscent of words. His hands tortured each other on his lap; when Malcolm tried to lay xyr own on them to quell their anxious jittering he pulled away, as if the short lived touch had left his skin horribly charred.

“Could you repeat that, please?”

He did. A little louder, but just as incomprehensible as before.

“I don’t understand…”

“So we could have sex.”

The words tumbled down his tongue as if they were pebbles, bubbles, small spheres stuck in a gross liquid, and they tasted so horribly in his mouth, like dirty fingers that had been forcibly shoved down his throat, that he wanted to rip the whole thing away.

He could feel their texture dribbling down his lip and chin.

And he could feel wide green eyes on him.

“Joey,” Malcolm started, and xyr hand crept close to him, “Joey, if you wanted you could have just asked-”

His whole body convulsed, violently shifting to refuse any sort of contact as he nearly cried out, choking his voice to a strangled halt as the scream in his throat was just about to reach its maximum volume. His husband immediately rose xyr arms in the air, at the sides of his head, in a show of innocence - no, harmlessness. Xe rose them so that xe couldn’t accidentally hurt him.

Very carefully, the lawyer sat on xyr knees in front of him, his green gaze attentive.

He was breathing unsteady breaths. Goddamn him. Goddamn him, every time he was on edge and scared and visibly vulnerable he breathed unsteady breaths.

He shook his head with immense difficulty. His words came out trembling: “I can’t ask.”

“Of course you can-”

“No, I can’t ask beca… Beca…” he swallowed mucus and nails wedged into his neck. “It’s the only way. It’s the only way.”

“What is the only way?”

“If I’m… If I’m…”

He would have hidden his face in his hands, but he aimed wrong. His forehead rested on his wrists as he began crying.

“Why didn’t you do anything?” he cried, “Why didn’t you do anything when I was out cold? I wouldn’t have known… I wouldn’t have even known and it would have been fine…”

Realization hit.

“Joey, look at me.”

He could feel it in xyr voice.

“Joey, look at me in the eye.”

He resisted at first. He didn’t want to. Didn’t want to find the disgust and anger and lack of love.

But Malcolm had none of that.

Xe had fear, and worry, and a need to reassure, to right it all.

“I’m not going to rape you.”

It made him cry harder.

Malcolm gripped the carpet beneath him as if to rip it to shreds, knowing that grabbing the armchair instead might have made Joey feel trapped, and xe did not want to be the cause of even more stress for him: “I’m not going to rape you, ever.” he repeated.

“But it’s the only way we can…”

“Then we won’t have sex. We just won’t, and it will be fine.”

“It won’t be fine, it can’t be fine-”

“But it _is_. It _is_ fine, I swear!”

“No, no, it can’t, it can’t- I, you, you need…”

“I don’t! I can survive without sex, it is something I might _want_ , not something I need, and I don’t want it if it means I have to force you.”

“But we should-”

“No. No, it’s not a ‘should’, not a 'must’ or a 'have to’, either. We _could_. Because we _could_. But we don’t need to, nor do we need to be told that this is necessary. Because it isn’t.”

“But… But if you-”

“I’ll deal with it. By myself. I’ll deal with it all by myself. You don’t have to worry. I promise you don’t have to worry.”

Joey was breathing too heavily to answer. He blinked fast to keep the stream of tears from blinding him at wvery sob but to no avail. Malcolm carefully began lifting xyr hands, keeping them close to his own body despite the urge to wrap them around xyr husband’s pale frame; when xyr attempts at getting closer were met with no resistance nor fear, xe gently cupped his fingers around the stubbly chin, caressing xyr husband’s cheeks with xyr thumbs.

“Do you remember?” xe reminded him in a sweet tone, “The whole reason I didn’t know I liked men, it was because I have no attraction to them, remember? Because I don’t want to have sex with them. We can try, if _you_ want. But only if you say you do.”

The animator sniffled. He was still having difficulty inhaling, and his exhales were shaky at best and barely wheezes at worst.

“ ’m ruinin’ 'v'rythin’…” he mumbled.

“You’re not.”

“ ’m ruinin’ 'v'rythin’ jus’ 'cause I can’t… Jus’ 'cause I can’t…”

“You’re not ruining anything.”

“Jus’ 'cause I’m…”

“It’s ok. It’s ok.”

Malcolm’s forehead leaned on Joey’s. It was pleasantly warm, smooth, soft.

“I will ask you only this once.” xyr voice was low, a gentle murmur. Xyr thumbs kept caressing his cheeks. “Only this once. So we both know what you want. Ok? And if you want, later, one day, you can change your answer. Ok?”

He nodded.

“Do you want to have sex?”

Joey hesitated.

“You can say no if you don’t want to.”

Slowly, he shook his head.

“Then we won’t do it. Simple as that.”

Simple as that.

They wouldn’t do it.

Because he was sex-repulsed, and Malcolm loved him too much to step all over his boundaries.

Simple as that.

Joey felt like he could start crying again.

He wasn’t entirely sure why, but he had the suspicion that part of the reason had to be relief.

Malcolm looked into his humid grey eyes and gifted him a small, loving smile.

“You look like you could use a kiss.” xe said.

Xyr husband exhaled: “I could.”

And xe kissed him.

Xe kissed his forehead first, then the nose, then the lips. And xyr kiss was answered in the same way, a small pressure and a breath slipping through, if a little weaker, a little more desperate, a little still shaken.

Xe helped him take his crutches and get up; xe sustained him as they walked back to the bedroom and as he lowered himself on the mattress slowly, kissing the back of his hand with endless devotion; xe laid by his side and kissed him again, and again, carding through his dark hair in a gentle manner and loving him as much as he wanted to be loved and kissed and comforted in the safety of their shared bed, until xyr eyelids grew terribly heavy under the strain of keeping them open. He held onto xem, stray tears slowly falling to be eaten by the pillow.

They slept.

It was fine.

It was fine.

They were fine.

It would have been fine.


End file.
